


The Many Faces of Sal Fisher

by TheAuthorOfTheStory



Category: Sally Face (Video Games)
Genre: A lot of shit is going down, Abusive Relationships, Accidental Kissing, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anger, Angst, Animal Abuse, Animal Attack, Animal Death, BAMF Larry Johnson, Bad Decisions, Bad Flirting, Bad Jokes, Bad Parenting, Best Friends, Bisexuality, Blood and Gore, Canon Gay Character, Canonical Character Death, Car Accidents, Childhood Memories, Childhood Trauma, Coping, Cults, Death, Demons, Demons Are Assholes, Despair, Developing Friendships, Drug Use, Dysphoria, Emotional Hurt, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Manipulation, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Enemies to Friends, Eventual Happy Ending, Eventual Romance, Everyone Needs A Hug, False Memories, Family Drama, Family Loss, Family Secrets, Fearsome Foursome, Fights, Fluff and Humor, Gen, Ghosts, Guilt, Hallucinations, Harm to Animals, Hate Crimes, Hate Speech, Homophobia, Humiliation, Hurt/Comfort, I Can't Believe I Wrote This, I Don't Even Know, I Tried, I Will Go Down With This Ship, I think I should stop tagging now, I think you get the idea, I'm so sorry but I'm also so very not, I've wanted to write this since before episode five even came out, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Internalized Homophobia, It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better, It's going to be intense, Loss, Loss of Faith, Loss of Trust, Major Character Injury, Memory Loss, Minor Original Character(s), Multi, Murder, Murder Mystery, Mystery, Night Terrors, Nightmares, Pain, Panic Attacks, Paranoia, Past Child Abuse, Physical Abuse, Platonic Relationships, Please Don't Hate Me, Plot Twists, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Protective Larry Johnson, Protectiveness, Psychological Torture, Psychological Trauma, Public Humiliation, Religion, Religious Conflict, Religious Cults, Religious Guilt, Religious Humor, Repressed Memories, Sal Fisher and Larry Johnson Are Not Related, Self-Esteem Issues, Self-Hatred, Slow Burn, Spoilers, Swearing, Tears, This Is Why We Can't Have Nice Things, Torture, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Unhealthy Relationships, Verbal Abuse, Verbal Humiliation, What Have I Done, Why Did I Write This?, You'll either love it or hate it, definitely sad, prepare thyself, question mark, real slow burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-16
Updated: 2019-12-16
Packaged: 2021-02-25 22:07:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,728
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21812689
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheAuthorOfTheStory/pseuds/TheAuthorOfTheStory
Summary: The story of a prophecy. The story of a hatred that burned too bright. The story of a dark religion. The story of a loss too great. The story of scars that ran too deep. The story of Sal Fisher.///This story contains a lot of dark content which you'll find in the tags. But some examples are alcohol abuse, self harm, anxiety/depression, self hatred, dysphoria, abuse - physical and verbal - and so on. You have been warned. The plot is consistent with the Sally Face game for a good portion of the fic. So, spoilers ahead for every episode of Sally Face.\\\
Relationships: Chug/Maple (Sally Face), Sal Fisher/Larry Johnson, Todd Morrison/Neil
Comments: 10
Kudos: 41





	The Many Faces of Sal Fisher

**Monmouth** **, New Jersey**

**Tatum Park**

**Saturday, September 5th, 2000**

**1:45 PM**

_"Sal, please don't wander too far. I want you in my line of sight at all times, okay?" Her voice was as gentle as the wind that blew slowly through my hair. Her kind eyes lifted me up and made me feel safe, always. I remember looking back at her and smiling, giggling as I ran further towards the tall, skinny trees. I made sure to stay in her line of sight, like she asked me to, but I was still pretty far off from her. I could feel her eyes staring right into my soul, but I opened up wholeheartedly and let her in. She was my mother, after all, and I trusted her. I loved her. For hours, I remember playing with the sticks and leaves, offering my mom my findings with absolute glee as I thought I just discovered something that no one else discovered before. She always accepted and thanked me kindly, pulling me into little hugs and giving me soft kisses on my plump cheeks. I remember when I turned around once and I saw her with her head bowed and her phone in her hands. She looked as though she was going to break any second and I felt my entire body tense in fear. I didn't understand why she was so sad all of a sudden, but I rushed to her aid because I know she would have done the same for me._

_"Mom, what's wrong?" I remembered asking her with a quiver in my voice. I was worried I had done something wrong. But, as though she knew that was my fear, she smiled and held me close to her. I could hear her heart beating loudly in my ear as my head pressed against her chest. I hugged her back and cherished her warmth, already feeling better within a few seconds. I felt relieved and somehow I knew everything was going to be okay. I always believed my mother had some sort of magic, but now I was really sure of it._

_I remember how she soothed me with her gentle hands, rubbing my back and caressing my hair. Her voice drifted towards me like a beautiful lullaby. "It's okay, Sal. I'm alright, so you've no need to worry. Just keep smiling, okay?" Just keep smiling, is what she told me. And so I did. We did. We laughed and played and smiled and we forgot all about the bad things in the world. Just for a little while. Unfortunately, all good things must come to an end, right? This time was no different. Things started to go downhill when I first saw it, glowing red like two rubies in the trees. They were completely still and focused on me. I didn't know what to think, at first. I wasn't scared, I was curious. And my curiosity won out over logic and caution; common sense. I remember chasing the pure glow, laughing and giggling as I disappeared through the slender trees. I remember kicking up the bright orange and red leaves, not paying any mind to where I was actually going. Where I was being led, rather. I remember when they disappeared, and that was when I finally realized what I had done._

_I was lost, alone and afraid. It was so silent, with only the sound of the leaves rustling around me and the wind whispering incoherently. I looked everywhere but nothing looked familiar. Everything looked the same yet it was all completely different. I felt my eyes watering and I cried. I cried so hard, I felt like I was going to throw up. I don't know how long I cried for. But they were so strong and I guess they carried pretty far. The next thing I knew someone was grabbing me and pulling me closer to them. I didn't know who it was and so I screamed and tried to get away. I could only imagine those bright red eyes, but this time I didn't feel the same intrigue. They scared me, because they left me alone in the cold. They scared me because the longer I pictured those eyes in my head, the more I realized what a menacing haze they held. I thought I was going to die._

_"Sal; Sal, baby, it's me. Shhhh, shhh... Sweet child, it's okay. It's okay." Her voice was always the best medicine. Her voice always fought away the terror and replaced it with warmth and comforting, ease and relief. I nearly completely ceased my crying as I held onto my mom, burying my face into the crook of her neck. My nose was running, my eyes stung and my chest felt like I had gotten kicked in it. I just wanted her close to me. I didn't want to leave her again. I didn't want to be alone again. As she continued to soothe me, I felt the relief beginning to slip away. I felt cold instead of warm and I felt scared once more. I held her so tight my knuckles were starting to turn white, I think._

_"Mom, there's a monster in these woods." I remember how my voice shook and my legs trembled. I remember how she held me tighter and whispered something into my ear. But what she said exactly I can't remember. I think it was something along the lines of 'I know, I saw it too'. Without wasting much more time, she lifted me into her arms and we fled as fast as we could. I remember hearing the wind whistle past my ears, but I don't remember seeing anything. My eyes were shut so tightly because I was afraid of seeing those haunting red eyes again. I couldn't shake that nauseous feeling, that ball of anxiety, even as we were beginning to come upon the clearing again. The car was parked a little ways up, back on the road. But she told me repeatedly that we'd make it, that everything would be okay. For the first time ever, I didn't believe her._

_My mother carried me back to where we had set up our little picnic - which was the purpose of this trip. Except my dad never showed and my mom never really explained why. All she ever said was that he was likely still swimming his way over here. I thought he was really swimming over her when I was younger. But even then, that never made a whole lot of sense to me. But I was a child. What did I know? Anyway, my mom put me down on the blanket and reached for her phone. There was a panicked look in her eyes that I've never seen before. It scared me and made me think of those red eyes again. I watched as she hurriedly dialed a number, placing the small phone to her ear. But as her face crumpled even more and a deeper sense of despair filled her features, I knew that help was never going to arrive in time. As I started to cry again and curl up on myself where I sat, my mother looked defeated. But only for a moment. Then she smiled at me and wrapped her arms around me. But it was a sad smile. It wasn't the same happy smile I was used to. I couldn't stop crying. "It's going to be okay." But I knew it wasn't going to be. "We're going to be okay." But I knew we weren't. "I'll protect you." And she did._

_When it first attacked, she was still holding me, even as her screams filled the air. I don't remember screaming but moments later I do remember the scratchy, raw feeling in my throat. I remember seeing more red than I've ever seen in my life. It was shiny and wet, thick and it was everywhere. I remember seeing those two red eyes falling back, the gentle glint of silver under the sun and then I remember my mother screaming again. But this time, it was an angry scream. If was a heartfelt cry of absolute determination and protectiveness. "STAY AWAY FROM MY SON!" I remember seeing blonde on black, red on white. I remember a tornado right before my eyes, a flurry of color so intense and warped, I was beginning to get dizzy. I felt sick all over again and without thinking, I ran. I ran so fast, everything blurred around me. Or maybe that was the tears obscuring my vision. I don't remember much after I ran. I remember the trees. I remember the cold wind. I remember screams and I remember my mom's voice._

_"Please... Smile... Keep smiling..."_

_Then I remember pain. Like nothing I had ever felt before. It was searing hot, like the sun had just landed on my face. Then it was a sharp sting, over and over and over again. I remember struggling but I was trapped. Whatever was attacking me was strong. I don't remember how long this went on but eventually the pain subsided. Eventually I felt... Calm. Tired. I felt like I was having a terrible dream but it was over now. I remember the trees, the leaves, the wind - everything slowly fading, burning away like a discarded piece of paper. I remember very vividly those two red eyes. They were cold, menacing and unwavering. I don't remember smiling, I don't think I did at all. How could I smile at a moment like that? How could I smile ever again?_

_And then everything was just dark. Dark and cold._

* * *

**_  
_ ** **_Monmouth_ ** **_, New Jersey_ **

**_PS 312_ **

**_Sunday_ ** **_, September 24th, 2000_ **

**_8:12 AM_ **

"Dad, do I have to go?" Sal Fisher stared up at his tall and plump dad, his eye full of sadness and fear. He held tightly onto a small teddy bear with one button eye missing. He wanted it to look like him, is what he told his dad. His dad, Henry Fisher, looked down at his son and sighed, slowly coming to one knee in front of him. He grabbed his son's shoulder and tried to smile. But his smiles were never like hers. His were cold, distant and always sad.

"Yes. I know things have been rough. But I can't keep you home anymore. You need to go back to class." Henry paused and thought for a moment. "Turn around." When Sal did so, Henry reached into the boy's bag and took out one of his notebooks. Then, on the last page of the book, Henry wrote a number with his name underlined beneath it. "Okay, Sal. Look." Henry turned his son back around and showed him the number, watching as Sal looked in confusedly. "If you ever feel too scared, then go to the main office and ask to call this number. Okay?"

"Is this your number?" Sal asked so innocently, head tilted slightly to the side. His dad just smiled and gave a small nod. "Will you answer?" Henry faltered a bit, but eventually he nodded again. He could see this reassured his son a little bit and that was good enough for him. Henry stood up and gestured to Sal's backpack.

"Put it away and keep it safe. Try to get through as much of the day as possible. I'll be here to pick you up afterwards. Okay?" Sal nodded but he didn't move from that spot. His blue eye, though not as vibrant anymore - briefly flicked to the large brick building not too far away. A few students straggled in with their parents - some crying, some laughing, some quiet and calm. Sal knew that they all knew but everyone was trying so hard to act like nothing happened. _But it did happen. You can't forget with a face like mine._

Sal felt tears starting to build again as he watched a mother and her son hug and share kisses. He would never have that again. He could never see her again, hold her, or even hear her soothing voice ever again. Sal forced his eyes away and sobbed softly, clutching the book so tightly that it left crinkles in the paper. "Daddy, I miss her... I want mommy..."

Sal sobbed a little louder, immediately attracting the attention of a few passerby's. But Henry was back on one knee in an instant and trying his best to comfort his broken son. "Hey, hey... It's going to be okay. Mommy is going to come out of the hospital any day now and you can see her again. Okay? It's going to be okay. We're going to be okay." But Sal only cried harder. When his dad said it, it never sounded believable. It was even less believable when his dad was slurring his words, stumbling on them and stumbling over his own feet. It was scary and it made Sal feel alone again. He knew his dad was wrong. He knew things would never be okay again.

_**12:25 PM** _

Sal stared at the wall, listening to everyone laugh and play around him. The teacher spoke so sweetly to them, laughing and guiding them along like their light in the dark. But where was his light in the dark? _Your face is scaring the other children. Why don't you sit this one out, Sal?_ He stared longingly at the shadows on the wall, the room dark due to them playing a certain game that required it to be so. It hurt. It hurt so much but there was nothing he could do about it. Sal knew this would happen, but no one listened to him. _You'll be fine. It's going to be okay. We're going to be okay._ It's not okay. It wasn't going to _be_ okay. "It's not okay..." Sal spoke so quietly, he figured no one would have even heard him. But someone did.

"What?" The room was suddenly silent. And he could feel all eyes on him. They were staring, gawking, probably laughing and pointing quietly. Sal felt his face burn, his heart clenching so tight that it was hard to breathe. But somehow, he still found his words. Somehow, he still spoke and his voice remained relatively steady.

"I said it's not okay." Sal turned around, but upon seeing the frightened faces before him, he immediately regretted it. Some stepped back, others gasped and looked away. No one met his eye. Not even the teacher, who was pushing students behind her as if protecting them from a beast. She smiled, but Sal hated that smile. It wasn't warm, it wasn't kind, it wasn't even a pity smile. It was cold and slightly menacing, matching the threatening look in her eyes. Sal clenched his fists, feeling more angry than scared now. It wasn't fair. Why did he have to hurt so much? Why could no one understand? Why did it have to be like this? Why can't he just be happy? He didn't understand. He didn't understand at all. But he knew. He knew very well. "It's not okay!" Sal screamed, not caring that everyone flinched and one child even started to quietly sob behind some other boy. He watched as the teacher stepped forward, offering her arms wide open. But Sal knew that there was a knife in her mouth. And any minute now, she would unsheathe it and slash him with it. He felt scared again. He felt anxious and instinctively, he took a step back.

The teacher reached for him, gently placing her hands on his tiny shoulders. He trembled under her grasp. "Sal, why don't you calm down, okay? You're scaring everyone." Didn't they care that he was scared? "Please be quiet. It's going to be fine. You're okay."

Sal screamed again at that moment, as though the words triggered something deep within him. He shoved the teacher away and continued to scream, raising his voice higher and higher. "It's not okay! It's not okay, it's not okay! It's not okay! IT'S NOT OKAY!!" Even as the teacher evacuated the classroom, called for security and did 'her best' to calm Sal down, he refused to stop screaming. He refused to let anyone touch him. He refused to let anyone see him. He wasn't entirely sure when but he started crying, too. Big tears slipped down his face out of his one good eye, drenching the one side of his scarred face. He wailed and screamed for what seemed like forever, until he felt familiar hands grabbing him. They were cold.

"Sal! SAL!" Henry stared at his son, but it wasn't a look of comfort. It was cold, it was distant, it was glazed over with that familiar glass look. Sal whimpered and sobbed, trying desperately to get away. The smell was the worst part. It was so heavy that Sal could taste it on his own lips, his own tongue. He wailed louder when he found that he couldn't get away. He screamed until his throat was raw, all scratched up and likely ready to bleed out. His dad held him tight and repeated those same dreadful words. "It's okay."

But Sal knew better. He began to think that he was the _only_ one to know. He shook his head and sobbed hard, his entire body convulsing gently against his dad's body. He gasped and hiccuped, barely able to swallow due to his throat feeling as though it was torn away. "I-It's n-not.. It's n-not okay, d-dad..."

* * *

**_  
_ ** **_Monmouth_ ** **_, New Jersey_ **

**_St. May's Hospital, Dr. Zimbardo's office_ **

**_Thursday, October 5th, 2000_ **

**_10:29 AM_ **

Sal stared at the little fur ball in his hands, watching it sleep soundly. It purred gently, a big smile on it's tiny face. It felt safe. It felt warm and it was happy. Sal was happy that it was happy. He was happy that it wasn't scared of him. For the first time in a long time, something - someone - didn't look at him as though he was a monster. Sal felt tears prickling his eye again. He held them back because his dad didn't like it when he cried. But he couldn't hold back the small smile on his face. It was strange, something he hadn't done in a long time. But he was happy. And that was all that mattered. Holding the kitten close, Sal whispered gently against it's fur. And for once, he believed it this time. He believed when he said it and just for this moment, he believed when his doctor and his dad said it. "I'm okay. We're going to be okay... Gizmo."

"I can't. I just can't - moving isn't an option right now. The house has only been on the market a few weeks now. But money is also an issue. I can't..." Henry sighed and rubbed his temple, but the doctor seemed to understand. They stood inside the office while Sal sat outside the office. The door was mostly shut, but it wasn't closed enough to block out their voices. But they didn't know that. Henry shook his head and the doctor nodded, speaking quietly as to not disturb the child behind the door.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Fisher. It is something I highly recommend you do because it would be a great help to both you and Sal. But until that can be done, the cat should prove a sufficient enough coping mechanism. It should distract him for a little while. Hopefully in that time, he can grow beyond his grief." The doctor paused and cleared his throat. He smelled it, but he never said anything about it - the overwhelming stench of booze that always seemed to follow Henry around. He was doing his job. But taking care of other matters that didn't concern him, that wasn't his job. "Hopefully so can you, Henry." That was all he said before he quietly dismissed the older man, which of whom gave him a dirty look. His grief wasn't the doctors concern. Sal was his concern. Was their concern. They were there for him, not for Henry. And Henry made sure the doctor knew that with his stern gaze. 

Henry took his son away, but he let his son hold the kitten. Sal excitedly told him the name he chose but Henry dismissed it so quickly, it was as though Sal was nothing but a petty voice in the back of Henry's head. Sal deflated, but he swore that he wouldn't let this ruin his good mood. It was only a tiny bubble of hope, of happiness, but he didn't want it taken away so soon. The pair left the hospital in silence, drove back home in silence and then entered in silence.

_**2:15 PM** _

Sal laughed and giggled as he watched Gizmo run around in circles. Then, when the kitten jumped onto the couch and rolled over, Sal was nearly doing the same as he laughed so hard his face hurt. He didn't know why it was so funny to him. But it was refreshing to be able to laugh again. It was so strange, but it was so good. Sal forgot what it was like to laugh like this, but now that he remembered, he hoped he never forgot again. The two of them played for a good hour before Sal started to get tired. He warned Gizmo that he should take a nap, too and not mess around in his dad's things. But Gizmo didn't listen. Sal chased him down, but it was too late. Gizmo had run into the kitchen and across the counter. He wanted to explore his new home. After all, being in a cage was terrifying and it was so small and cold. But now he was warm and free! And he had Sal to thank for that. But Gizmo wanted to know everything about this place. Unfortunately, he learned a few things the hard way. "Gizmo, no!"

Sal yelled as Gizmo slid on a paper after he jumped over the sink and onto the counter again. He bumped into the beer bottle that sat there, completely open with a fly buzzing around it. It had been there for a few days now, so had the papers. The bottle wobbled and Sal froze in fear. And then it fell, clinking loud on the counter before rolling and shattering on the floor. Sal felt panic settle into his bones but it was already too late. He could hear his dad's thunderous footsteps coming from upstairs. He could already feel the anger that enveloped his dad all the time. It was a cloud so thick and big, people from down the block could feel it. Sal whimpered and ran to clean the spilled beer. Gizmo jumped down and watched him, confused on what just happened. The papers were wet now, too and everything smelled like old beer. It was nauseating.

"Sal, what the fuck happened?" The tiny boy flinched and quickly scrambled away from the mess, sopping paper towels in his hands. He trembled and looked to the mess then his dad.

"I-I... It was an accident, dad. I ran too fast and I slipped." Sal glanced at Gizmo, who managed to stay dry. But he could never give up the small kitten. He was just a child. He didn't know any better. Sal would rather take the punishment himself. "Dad, please don't be mad. I tried to clean it, honest."

Henry glared, looking at his little boy. Looking at the cat. Then looking at the soaking wet papers and the puddle on the kitchen floor. Henry's face immediately switched from anger to horror, then back to anger and annoyance. He ran to the counter and lifted a paper, staring at it hopelessly. It was a resume, freshly printed and ready for deliverance. He was finally going to get a job again, but now things might be a little delayed. The interview was in two hours! There was no way he could make it down to the office to print a new copy of his resume and then make it to the interview on the other side of town. He was fucked. Henry growled and crumpled the paper, slamming it down onto the counter in his fist. The sound echoed and scared both Gizmo and Sal, who flinched and yelped softly. "What the hell are you doing running in the kitchen?"

"Dad, I-"

"Shut the fuck up! How many times have I told you not to run in the goddamn kitchen?!" Henry seemed to miss the fact that he was terrifying his son. That or he just didn't care. He continued to scream and yell, angry and frustrated. "Stay out of the kitchen! Is that so damn hard?!" Henry let go of the wet, crumpled paper and let it slip onto the floor. He stalked closer to Sal and reached for him, much to the young boy's dismay. Sal scrunched up and whimpered, shutting his eye as he waited for punishment. But it didn't come. Instead, something even worse happened. "This damn cat is going downstairs. You can sit in your room _quietly_ and think about what you did." Sal opened his eye to see Henry dragging away Gizmo, holding him by the scruff of his neck. Gizmo didn't look pained, but he looked angry. He looked scared. He yowled and hissed and desperately tried to get away. But Henry refused to let him go.

Sal ran forward and screamed, tiny hands clutching at his dad's pants leg tightly. "Please don't take Gizzy away! Don't, dad! Don't take him away!" Sal sobbed and wailed, pleading with his dad. But his cries seemed to fall on deaf ears. Henry pulled away from his son and left him sobbing in the kitchen. He dragged Gizmo down to the basement, holding him like a small bag of trash. Once down there, he dropped the kitten in the dark and left, locking the door behind him. He ignored Gizmo's cries, his terrified and sad cries. Henry took a deep breath after locking the door and hurried back to the kitchen, where Sal desperately tried to fix his mistake. He sobbed and trembled, but he kept wiping the puddle with paper towels. It wasn't doing much of anything, considering it was a decent puddle. But Sal refused to give up. It wasn't until Henry pulled him away that Sal finally stopped. "Dad, wait, i can fix this!"

Henry felt his heart throb and his grip tightened on Sal's arm. He yanked harder and began to drag his son away. He was tired. So damn tired. And Sal was getting on every single one of his nerves right now. "You're just like your damn mother." Henry grumbled under his breath, heaving a heavy breath as he pulled Sal to his room. He ignored Sal's pained cries, pleading with his dad to stop, and he just continued to drag Sal up the stairs and down the hall. "What's the matter with you, huh?" Henry growled and yanked Sal in front of him, gripping him tightly by the shoulders. He shook Sal roughly, his voice growing louder as his eyes glared into Sal's one good eye. His eyes were so distant, Sal wondered just how far away he was. Did he even know who he was anymore? Did he remember who Sal was? "Why the fuck can't you leave well enough alone?! There is nothing for you to fix!"

Henry breathed a little heavily, his hands gripping Sal's shoulder's so tightly that Sal thought he was going to break them. His body trembled and shook so hard, Sal worried that if his dad let go then he would just collapse on the spot. But he didn't want to anger his dad. He knew he shouldn't have been crying. But he couldn't stop. Sal realized that nothing was ever okay. Nothing would ever be okay again. For that moment, everything _seemed_ okay. But it was just an illusion. A blanket covering the disgusting mess that was his life. As long as he lived, nothing would ever be okay again. Sal didn't hear what his dad said next. And he barely registered being shoved into his bedroom. As soon as he collapsed onto his knees in the middle of his floor, the door slammed shut and then locked. Sal didn't stop crying. He couldn't stop crying. Not until he finally started to fall asleep, so utterly exhausted from the day's events. Sal stared at the wall, curling up where he laid. He was cold, but he didn't have the strength to get up anymore. Did it even matter? Sal sniffled and closed his eye, shivering lightly as he curled up even tighter into himself.

He hoped he never woke up again.

* * *

_**Monmouth, New Jersey** _

_**St. May's Hospital, Dr. Zimbardo's Office** _

_**Tuesday, November 21st, 2000** _

_**3:15 PM** _

"How does it feel, Sal? Comfortable?" It took a long time, but finally Sal had gotten something to hide the ugly scarring on his face. There were many to choose from, but Sal knew right away which one he wanted. He was waiting for this day for one very special reason. Sal smiled under the prosthetic and gave a small nod. They couldn't see his expression due to having a full facial prosthetic on. But somehow that made Sal even more relieved. He felt much better with this on, he felt as though he could finally be himself a little more. This way people wouldn't entirely get scared of him right away, right? They would actually approach him more and get to know him. Maybe they would even want to be his friend for once. The happy thoughts that filled Sal's head made him feel warm inside. And he liked that. Dr. Zimbardo gave a nod and stood up straighter, looking over to Henry. It was going to take a little bit of time getting used to such a prosthetic but Sal figured he would get the hang of it just fine. He could see well and he could hear fine. There were tiny holes on the nose so he could even smell decently enough. It was well made, he felt. "Alright, make sure to wash the prosthetic every other day. Keep it clean or it might irritate his scars. Are you using the cream I gave you to lessen the inflammation and itching?" Sal didn't hear what his dad said but the doctor seemed satisfied. "Alright. And Sal, how's the cat treating you? Or rather, are you taking good care of it?"

Sal fell silent at that. His smile faded and his heart sank. A new sadness washed over him and he felt both angry and hopeless all over again. Instead of using his words, Sal just nodded. He could feel Henry's stare on him, he didn't even have to look. Sal lowered his eye to the ground. The doctor mentioned a glass eye earlier, but he said that likely wouldn't arrive for some time longer. Sal would just have to be a little more patient. Without pushing the topic further, Dr. Zimbardo bid the pair farewell and they left the hospital. Sal tried not to let the situation with Gizmo upset him and he tried to focus on something happier. Something he had been looking forward to for a very long time. Sal couldn't help but smile as he carefully got into the passenger side of the car.

Sal gazed longingly at the prosthetic in his lap. It wasn't exactly pretty. But it would have to do. He just hoped he made the right choice. Looking up finally, Sal smiled at his dad and gave him the most hopeful look he's had in a long time. He wouldn't wear the prosthetic around his dad because when his dad had his good days, he could look Sal in the eye. Sal hoped those days would be more often now. "Dad, are we going to see mom now?" His words, dripping with a sweet innocence, were met with silence. It was deafening and cold. Sal didn't notice how Henry's knuckle's turned white, his fingers gripping the steering wheel so tight as though he would fade away if he didn't hold on. The silence was scary, it was unnerving and it made Sal feel cold again. He felt like a lost little boy whenever he was around his dad. "Dad? Dad, you said when I got my pra - uhm -prostetie, we could see her together." Sal shrunk in his seat as he stared at his dad. Did he forget? Was it because of that gross stuff he's always drinking? Sal didn't really know what it was, but whatever it was, it made his dad really sick. And really angry. And really mean. "Dad-"

"Shut the fuck up!" The sudden scream threw Sal off-guard. He jumped and nearly dropped his prosthetic. He shrank back even more and slid closer to the seat. Did his dad really forget? Or did he change his mind? Did his dad not want to see mom anymore? Sal didn't understand. Henry rubbed his face and let out a heavy sigh. "We're not seeing mom. We're never seeing mom again, Sal. Okay? She's dead. She's fucking dead!" Henry screamed at Sal, never taking his eyes off the road. He didn't see the last bit of light drain from Sal's eye as he looked away. He didn't see the way his eye glossed over, a mix of emotions slamming into him at all once just then. He didn't see Sal stare at the prosthetic in fear. He didn't see Sal's shaky hands putting it on.

"I chose the pink one because her favorite color is pink. I hope she'll recognize me... Even with the p-pro.. Pres... Mask on..." Sal's voice was devoid of any real emotion, his hands still shaking even after he put the prosthetic on. He stared forward but he didn't see anything anymore. Everything was grey and lifeless. Everything was a blur. Everything was nothing anymore. Sal didn't remember when they got home, or when he finally got to his room. He didn't remember falling asleep. But he remembered the nightmares clearly. He remembered waking up in the middle of the night screaming and he remembered his dad coming to comfort him.

"It's okay. You're okay. We're going to be okay."


End file.
